The Road at Midnight
by tremor3258
Summary: Back in normal patrol operations outside the Badlands, Admiral Revka and her crew are trying to put the Iconian War behind them. But a surprise discovery on a prewarp planet sheds light on how closely things went to going even worse.


By tremor3258

Set for the Unofficial Literary Challenge 22 on the forums, prompt 2 - suddenly encountering a duplicate on a pre-warp planet.

Set after the Iconian War, during the Mirror Incursion. Antonine's a Fed-engineer.

* * *

It'd be a simple science mission, mapping a system only charted at long-range. A common, simple pile of dead rocks. But it once hadn't been so empty, and so it had quickly gotten interesting. But it ended, with everyone alive and now the _Guardian -class_ _Trafalgar_ and her crew were headed to their next mission along the Cardassian frontier, maintaining the Federation, at a sedate warp 7.

"Personal log, Admiral Revka, _U.S.S. Trafalgar_ , commanding," Antonine stated into her ready room computer. "I have completed my official reports on our mission to explore the previously charted system 43-Alpha-47-Alpha. The ICARUS system was fascinating, whether it was truly sentient is a question I leave to the philosophers, but my crew's efforts prevented its attempts at self-destruction. A team from the Vulcan Science Academy is already being organized to receive the collected history of its originating culture. The Tallurians' legacy will live on."

The young admiral checked the transcript of her words, nodded, then saved the entry. "Computer, please send Lieutenant Isay up at his convenience," she ordered, and checked the time with some amusement.

Sure enough, Lieutenant Darryl Isay, her intelligence staff officer, was there in under two minutes. 'Convenience' when one was a flag officer served as a surprisingly astute judge of relative authority. She motioned him to a chair and studied him briefly.

They'd served together a few years ago back when there was still a Romulan front, but data analysts didn't jump the ranks as fast as starship line officers. Even intelligence officers who could serve as models for Starfleet recruiting holograms, as the nerve repair after his last ship's misfortune was excellent.. Still, Ensign Isay had come as long a way as the rest of Starfleet over the last few years, and by the prewar standards Intelligence could still apply, he was being promoted quite quickly. She motioned to the replicator but he waved it off, already starting to sweat in the room's heat.

"Lieutenant, I promise this will be short," she said sympathetically. She kept most of the ship at Starfleet standard temperatures, but the cold of Earth-normal just wasn't comfortable. "I wanted to personally thank you and ask you to convey my thanks to your team," she said. "Without your analysis, our secondary engineering team would have never been able to find and disable ICARUS's self-destruct before it ruptured the planet's mantle."

Isay stared back, "Admiral, I'm not sure how you managed to keep calm and keep talking to it long enough to force it to consider that its mission of protecting a dead system was done. We were well within the blast zone."

"Not the riskiest thing," Antonine said with a wave, "And our mission and duty in Starfleet required us to do our best to preserve a priceless source of knowledge."

Isay nodded, and said, "Still, an ancient defense system, unable to prevent its people from destroying themselves by the paranoid limits they had set. Does make you think."

Antonine nodded at that, "Still – excellent work. Honestly, your people are almost wasted here, we know what the Mirror are up to. We've got some slots opening up in the Delta Quadrant, do you have anyone who wants transferred?"

Isay said, "Specialist Tomelson, maybe. He did some papers on the Hierarchy, but most of the staff appreciates the pressure right now."

Antonine said, "Well, that's good to hear, but until we get back to the rest of Task Force 102, the next few missions are continuations of our science missions. Resupply a long-term anthropological post and checking maintenance on some listening probes." She shrugged, "It will be interesting, but I suspect your staff will have some chance to catch up on operational planning for when we're rotated back to the Badlands."

Isay wiped his head, and said, "I admit, I wasn't expecting quite so much 'action' doing exploration – but I guess all experiences can be used to advantage. Even on the Intelligence side, it's weird to be put to use for science missions." He smiled, sadly, though Antonine would swear light glinted off his teeth. "Feels odd to do what we signed up for."

"If we're lucky, the Terran Empire will give up and we can do this full time," the Admiral said, "But if we do our job, at least we will be the only ones in combat instead of the homeworlds. Dismissed Lieutenant – write up a recommendation for Tomelson and I'll approve it."

* * *

A few days later, she was walking through the lunar observation post established a few years back, along with the base's Chief Administrator, a sedate older Vulcan by the name of Drin. The inspection tour was nearly over as they approached the main command center. In the background, one could hear the faint trilling of advanced electronic gear. She had people all over the station refreshing the post. Though as he was explaining, the mission was far older than its current base.

"We had an orbital station since the late 2380s, but it was decommissioned in 2406 with the Klingon War meaning Starfleet's defense patrols against True Way operatives had to ease back. This has impacted our signals intelligence gathering," the Administrator said, pretty calm. Antonine always wondered how much of that studied calm was true, or just a veneer.

Antonine looked around the corridor, hewn from rock, somewhat low-ceilinged, and with very few windows if it went by standard construction. "I am glad your operation was able to continue in spite of the recent wars' strain on Starfleet, but with _Trafalgar's_ machine shops and engineering crew, we should be able to complete your maintenance cycle in a day or so."

"Your crew is very efficient," Drin said, "The return of Starfleet to peacetime operations has minimized existing disruptions in our research. The frigates that had been available lacked your cruiser's extensive facilities, and the crews were not quite as honed."

"In fairness to the DS9 operations sector," Antonine said, "We've had a lot of upward movement the last few years. The crews on the _Mirandas_ or _ShiKahrs_ are well-trained, but not very experienced." And also extensively poached by captains looking to fill vacancies once they got any experience, though no need to go in how bad Starfleet's losses had been.

"Oh, I understand, and can sympathize with having limited materials for many tasks – we have many specialists who wish more time on our arrays than can be given," Drin said, "But more frequent resupplies will allow us to supply and deploy more monitoring satellites."

 _Ah_ , she thought. _Here's something he can be personable on_.

"Is this species close to the warp breakthrough?" Antonine asked, innocent.

"Surprisingly, no," Drin said, more warmly. Like most Vulcans Antonine knew, he clearly loved to lecture. It was a subject close to her heart; her species had broken free of their system and space-time less than twenty years ago. But at that technical level, monitoring was generally via long-range probes to maintain the Prime Directive.

"This species – their name for themselves is Langians – has actually had a very similar technical level for our entire observational period, despite having a post-information age infrastructure," Drin continued, "Generally, species advanced into biotech and psi-related disciplines, or begin space exploration at this point, depending on xenophobia. However, we have seen no new technology introduced, and very few applications."

"Are they at war?" Antonine asked, alarmed. "We didn't detect anything on the way in." There were, however, wars less outwardly violent.

"Not as far as we can tell," Drin said, "Our investigation of their history is incomplete, but they seem to have had a continuous civilization, and strongly regionally divided."

"Usually," Antonine said drily, "Those who fear technological introduction tend to lose to those who do in such a situation."

"Precisely," Drin said, "Hence the Council continuing this operation given the rollback during wartime, as relative rates of technological and social growth are important factors for the continued debate on non-interference in civilizations."

 _That_ was putting it mildly. Drin paused briefly to let the import, and noted, "And this may be of interest to you – like several species trans-Bajor, the Langians are of reptilian or theraspidal descent."

"Yes, that was mentioned in the briefing briefly, any answer to that other long-running question that rises for any cluster of similar species?" Antonine asked.

Drin shook his head, and said, "These people have been here a long time. Any potential seeding for the trans-Bajor frontier was probably in the nature of the bipedal manipulation, lending strength to certain traits. We have only been able to observe their own research into their history, but there does not seem to be a common genetic link to any species in the Alpha or Beta quadrant."

"That will disappoint the Gorn, I suppose," Antonine said, and noted they were approaching the command center door. "But speaking of sampling – is there anything else we can do while we are here? We have the latest intelligence packages for commando insertion, if you'd like to do some wildlife sampling, or use quantum induction packages to pull information from their secured networks."

Drin hesitated, coming to a stop near the hatchway, "Two tempting offers," he acknowledged, "But their information network is advanced enough we do not want rumors of our presence by removing potentially monitored species. Your ship's heavy deflector shields allowing us to put stealthed temporary probes in standard orbit is a great boon to our research."

"Starfleet is here to help," Antonine assured him, "Shall we see if there's anything interesting?"

* * *

The command center, already small and stuffed with equipment, was positively stuffy with the extra Starfleet engineering and science staff to monitor the probe feed from the _Trafalgar_ 's telemetry lab. With most of the staff courtesy of the Vulcan Science Academy, not much comment was given.

"Probes powering up," N'Karon, the fierce Klingon expatriate reported. " _Trafalgar_ shows no additional active scans or communication spikes on surface." She'd brought one of her own secured consoles down – some of what she was doing was definitely non-civilian and still-classified.

"Your data is in good hands," Antonine said, pitched to carry, "The Commander is one of the finest science officers I've known." N'Karon's shoulders twitched at the compliment. The Vulcans hadn't said anything, of course, but there had been an undercurrent of expectation that N'Karon would _eat_ the isolinear chips rather than install them.

"Doing background scan of broadcast communication datafeed for keywords. Induction scan of their optical network repeating nodes is underway, Administrator, but don't expect much of that," N'Karon reported, forcing a light tone to Antonine's ears. The Vulcan nodded. Antonine relaxed – they'd either missed it or ignored it, so it looked like things were okay. Of course, N'Karon was downright showing off by pulling the optical networks.

Several minutes passed smoothly as the data-feed transmitted – the satellites were set to burn themselves up gradually over the next week as meteorites.

Suddenly, N'Karon's console beeped. She looked at it, thumped it; and then scowled as it beeped again. "Admiral, I'm getting a Starfleet emergency rescue code broadcast from the planet. It's a 'stranding' code, ma'am."

"How is that possible?" Drin asked, "No ships have entered the system for several weeks, and we have the full set of emergency procedures."

"It may have taken some time to gain access to broadcast status. We use some code sets that can be embedded in innocuous communication," Antonine said, "N'Karon's console is designed for this sort of signals work, so it would flag it faster than your systems. What is their status? How many?"

"Admiral," N'Karon said doubtfully, "It's an older codeset, pre-war, but the identity code shows in safe condition and an individual. But the code sir." She stopped, amazed.

"Yes, Commander?" Antonine prompted. This wasn't like her.

"Well, Admiral – it's your personal identity code," N'Karon said, " _You_ have been abandoned on the planet below."

* * *

"This still doesn't make sense," Antonine admitted a few hours later, in a conference room aboard _Trafalgar_ with the Administrator and her staff. "If I were abandoned, I would use the most recent code; and I didn't join Starfleet until after that code went out of action. So it's not time travel. For once."

The Administrator said, "We did a thorough search for the harmonics your team indicated." He inclined his head briefly to N'Karon, who nodded, more sharply. "The first indication we can find is approximately one standard month ago, though it did not appear consistently for several local days afterward. But it's definitely a deliberate repetition, not an astonishing coincidence."

Antonine's flag captain asked, "On another point, would it work biologically? Would she need surgical alteration?" Takerra looked over her boss and friend, and then looked at Drin. "Isn't she, well, too purple?"

"The Langian skin tones tend more towards yellow," Drin said, "But there are regional variations, and her cartilage build-up fits into local norms. What may be more of a problem is the Langian adult height for females averages five foot – Admiral Revka is astonishingly tall by local standards."

Antonine flushed slightly as everyone at the table; who were taller than her, stopped to look. "It would be a nice change," she said, "But I can't see picking this as a retirement home."

Takerra said briskly, "In any case, we have your biometrics, and we've moved the _Trafalgar_ in as close as we can under maximum deflectors. We've identified the transmission site. It's local night there soon – mid-latitudes. If the code was accurate, she should be stepping into a spot we can see her from orbit soon."

The Andorian was all-business at the meeting, though she and Antonine had spent a half-hour on possibilities. Antonine was betting some crashed and crazed probe still, but Takerra's money was on 'clone'.

"Assuming 'she' matches my biometrics," Antonine reminded. "We have a fair amount of time travelling. It could be some old and shrunken Revka, if it is me at all."

"The local staff have given us a good view of the local life sign range," N'Karon assured. "If it is a mystery, it is one we will cleave through to the answer soon!" Drin looked vaguely uncomfortable at the language choice.

"Regardless, we gathered here as this was the time code the distress protocols indicated," Antonine said, reminding everyone. "Admiral Revka to Bridge, please pipe down the life sign scan to the main conference room, and leave the channel open"

The main screen switched on, showing a street, something nearly universal, though a bit more crowded than typical in the post-scarcity worlds of the Federation. Dozens of people walked the streets, viewed from above, and small headers of information were flashing over each as they were discarded as candidates.

Then, one flashed red, highlighted as anomaly. "Bridge, zoom in on grid three-beta by four-epsilon," Takerra said. "Scan anomalous reading there." The view shrunk down, showing more detail – color filled in as the computer compensated for local twilight.

Antonine didn't quite technically have hair, but the figure's was close enough – the person was darker, matching local colors, but… and several around the table gasped. The figure looked up briefly. The face was the one Antonine saw in the mirror every morning. And, after a moment, the ship's computer found a match.

"Confirmed," it spoke aloud, "Metabolic readings consistent with Sivkan race." Wordlessly, she pulled out a slip of latinum and slid it over to Takerra.

* * *

The next meeting was significantly smaller, just Takerra, her, and a bleary-eyed Lieutenant Isay the next shipboard day. He and his team had probably burned out DS9's computers with all the data requests from the last several hours, but he'd put an analysis together.

"No temporal anomalies within six hundred light years. Quantum scans are uncertain, but we think negative right now. One subspace slipstream and some minor 'froth' towards the Ferengi sectors are all for subspace anomalies. Per your authorization, the _Rio de Janeiro_ and the _ch'Rel_ diverted to double-check for chroniton signatures at the two nearest singularities. Nothing was detected," he read from the list.

"So it's an _unusual_ form of something unusual?" Takerra said. The Andorian was adequate on quantum mechanics, but preferred the vagaries of people to mysteries of physics.

"If we can make contact," Antonine said, "We can ask me, I suppose. What were the results of the kinesthetic analysis?"

Isay tabbed his PADD. "We did a comparison against your current state as a baseline – left arm mobility seems seven percent down, though we saw some movement with waist rotation that was fifteen percent better. Medical is assuming a dislocation or burn on the arm that was healed, but local dress codes didn't let us get a good glimpse at this height."

Antonine nodded, and commented, "Torso movement would seem to indicate this… duplicate didn't have that mission to the Mylasa system." A rescue mission for some Federation diplomats had ended up in ground combat against the Hirogen. One had gotten much closer than she preferred, and some of the muscle fibers had to be regenerated.

Isay said, "I managed to dig up the pre-war protocols for this situation. Commander Chys'ette got a class three probe put together. It's local spring, but there's some high-altitude clouds we can use to 'excuse' an energy discharge to send a message into the local data network. 'You', Admiral, seem to be in a multi-resident complex, but live alone. Administrator Drin's scientists have mapped the network enough we have a node we can remotely tap your, er, counterpart can send to."

"Good," Antonine said. She straightened up formally, and said, "I don't want to leave anyone behind, especially myself, but the _Nagato_ 's new warp coil will be delivered soon. Badlands patrol was rough enough before Terran Empire raids, and I want our full team in place in case they have anything new planned. We're only scheduled in system for ten more hours, but I can authorize some more time on the slipstream emitters."

Takerra said, "We're fairly close, that only buys us fifteen more hours – I'll get one of our shuttles rigged up for infiltration work with a full transporter rig."

"Work with Administrator Drin," Antonine ordered, "They should have some items already fabricated for that sort of work." She smiled, relaxing a little out of 'full Admiral'. "And we did fix that plomeek soup recipe issue on their replicators, so they know they owe us one."

* * *

Fortunately, the lookalike was able to reply only an hour after a mysterious brief case of heat lightning. With the 'correct' if out of date replies to indicate no coercion and was available for beam-up, at least briefly. Prime Directive concerns would probably require a return to at least 'close out' whatever life had been built. Everything seemed within the bounds set decades ago by very clever and twisted people at Starfleet Command.

Still, Antonine and her senior staff – and usual away team, were in full combat gear with a security team backup in transporter room three. Security and quarantine protocols were in effect, up to a shimmering force field in front of the pad. It was _unlikely_ this was a very elaborate assassination attempt to remove one of Starfleet's many Vice Admirals, but given how far over they were on the probability curve to start, it had shifted to _likely_.

The transporter technician surveyed his console. "Scans report no life signs in the area – actually, from these energy scans, I think there's some active noise cancellation tech in play in the room. That'll make this easier."

"Just take it slow and gentle, Specialist," Antonine ordered. "Let's not rely on the kindness of strangers here."

The transporter operator cracked his knuckles. "No problem, ma'am," he said confidently. Antonine nodded, the man knew his stuff. Keeping the shriek of air molecule ripping apart at the dematerialization interface took some astute fine-tuning, if you wanted to get anything coherent at the other end.

"Always good to hear," she said, and hefted a blast assault squad-support weapon. It could be absolutely murderous in such a small space, but, as a stun crowd-control weapon, the heavy phaser gun had few equals. "Energize," she said, as the rest of her core team moved to firing positions.

The transporter hummed, its usual high-pitched noise muted, and she nodded appreciation of a job well done. A slight form materialized on the pad, somewhat slowly. It faded, and there was a general in taking of breath. Again, the feeling of a mirror looking out, with the force-field even adding more to the impression, helping balance out the heavy shawl of local dress the other her was wearing.

Antonine also hoped she didn't look quite so poleaxed when her mouth dropped open. The other her had visibly started as she was released from transporter effect. Then she took in the room, the security, and the heavily armed team.

"Lieutenant Antonine Revka, Starfleet. Serial number C48-747-BA3N-6. _U.S.S. Boudicca_ ," she said stiffly. Antonine looked her over – yes, even in civilian, she'd managed to be in operations gold.

"Commanding?" Antonine asked, stepping forward. That would put it mid-2409 or so, if the _Boudicca_ was the same _Excalibur_ -class she had helmed. She'd gotten bumped to Lieutenant Commander though, since she'd managed not to plough her first ship into the Spacedock doors.

Seemingly involuntarily, Lieutenant Revka stepped forward as well. Seen up close, the face wasn't quite the same. The other seemed… less worn perhaps. Her other shook her head, "Operations chief. Or was," she said. "Who _are_ you? Where is this?"

"Vice Admiral Antonine Revka, Starfleet. Serial number C48-747-BA3N-6. 102nd Task Force, commanding. You're about the _U.S.S. Trafalgar_ , a _Guardian_ -class long-range cruiser," she said. No immediate recognition came. Gently, she said, "Lieutenant, we think it is Stardate 88179.1."

Some of the color drained from her other face. "That's… about right, it was a little while from the shuttle to civilization," Lieutenant Revka said. "I lost some time," she said quietly. "Please tell me I lost some time."

"I don't know," Antonine replied honestly. "You may have – your distress call was out of date, by our codebooks."

"Oh," was all her alternate said.

* * *

Medical came back with 'Antonine' down the line, though an Antonine that had experienced a different medical history. There were no signs of accelerated growth from cloning. She also didn't have any bombs or bioweapons built into her. Brain scans weren't showing signs of Tal Shiar-style coercion. A quantum resonance scan came back identical, ruling out parallel universes, and she wasn't giving off chroniton radiation.

"I was down there for maybe nine months," Lieutenant Revka said, sitting on a biobed in sickbay. Antonine and her senior staff had left the screening, and it seemed someone had a quick word to Quartermaster, getting her a uniform. Subconsciously, the Lieutenant was shifting her shoulders in it – from her description, she was used to the Sierra model with its heavier cloth there. The similar uniform didn't help. It was a mirror, but underranked.

"Chroniton signatures would be scrambled by now, right?" Lieutenant Revka asked, looking at N'Karon. The Klingon nodded.

"I checked Starfleet Personnel," Antonine said, "Records still indicate one of me, and I haven't served on the _Boudicca_ for years. There doesn't seem to be enough of a timeline shift to push me out of existence." Takerra turned away, a smile starting. Apparently both Revkas looked sick at that thought.

Lieutenant Revka said, "I had just transferred a few months before. Starfleet Personnel picked up a new workflow optimization plan I'd worked on my first cruise, and I'd put in two years as an ensign, so got moved to an independent patrol ship." She made a face, "But the True Way hit our shuttle; we were on our way on a supply mission to the station here. I managed to make it out, but it took a while to work my way in with the Langians to arrange a distress signal. They are _not_ an agile people. I was beginning to worry I'd scrambled the code."

"You did a good job making sure your shuttle wouldn't be discovered," Antonine said. "The moonbase staff never found it."

"Moonbase?" Lieutenant Revka queried.

Takerra and Antonine shared a look. "Yes – the anthropological station had to move to a more securable location because of the True Way threat during the Klingon War," Antonine said slowly.

"What?" Lieutenant Revka jumped off the bed. "We're at war? What happened? Since when?"

Antonine sighed. "Actually, I think technically we aren't right now." She leaned forward, "And that's what really doesn't make sense. All this happened after the war started – and that was before I was on the _Boudicca_ , back in 2405 at the Academy, when Jm'pok made his ultimatum."

Lieutenant Revka shook her head, "That didn't happen," she said adamantly. "There was a lot of tension in Gorn and Klingon space because the Unificiationists were getting more overt in Romulan space." She looked around, "If you're looking for Starfleet identification codes – and you need them if you're going to get anywhere with this plan, because I've never heard of a _Guardian_. You won't get them… though this is the best holodeck or the largest mockup I've ever seen."

"Gorn space?" N'Karon said, "They've been part of the Empire for a while now." Lieutenant Revka scoffed.

Antonine asked, " _Guardians_ have been around for a bit, but there's so many ship classes coming out. If you've been on patrol, I could see missing – wait patrol," she stopped, snapping her fingers. "Something you said – what was your promotion on?"

"Workflow optimization for personnel on board, there's been some improved holomatrix controls and the old method was inefficient," Lieutenant Revka said. "What's your promotion on? Whatever you're trying to convince, people don't make Admiral a few years after the Academy."

"Yeah, that was before Vega," Takerra said absently. "It's almost normal now."

Antonine was quiet, thinking. "Okay, I think I remember – I was third shift ops back then, on first deployment. I _was_ working on some optimization routines, but then, well, Vega." Everyone but her other self nodded.

"If that's some sort of trigger word," Lieutenant Revka began, "I don't think it is working."

"Vega colony," Antonine said simply. That got a shrug. "The Borg invasion?" Antonine prompted, "Transwarp gates, the fleet retreating? Direct targeting of our hierarchical command structure? Lots of field promotions?" That also got a shrug.

Takerra said hesitantly, "The timeline's shifted a little, but I try to keep up with your service record. Vega still falls pretty badly right now." The Andorian looked worried. "Or it did an hour ago," she concluded.

"No Vega, no Klingon War," Antonine said. Revka nodded emphatically. "Okay – I'm guessing no Iconian War either, if the Klingon War surprised you."

"Ancient demons?" Revka said skeptically. "You're going to tell me you had to fight that Dominion contingent when it popped through, too." She looked around. "Is the Federation fighting everyone?"

"That would be 'yes'," Chys'ette said drily. The Bajoran engineer was pacing at this point, worried.

"I think the Ferengi Alliance stayed on good terms," Antonine said. "Okay, something temporal is going on, because it really sounds like the Undine never did anything in your version of events, if the Gorn are independent and the Klingons didn't force the issue on the Undine."

"And who are they?" Revka said wearily.

"Um," Antonine said, " _Voyager_ ran into them. Different dimension. Advanced biotechnology." A thought was starting to build.

Takerra said, "Well, they had a Borg number we used to designate them. Haven't had to think about it in a while."

"8472," N'Karon said, having run a quick computer search.

"Oh," Revka said, "I studied them a little. They were part of a scope on how different intelligent life could be. But Admiral Janeway signed a peace treaty with them."

"Yes," Antonine said. An idea was really starting to build. "But they thought they were being invaded," she said slowly.

Takerra nodded, "Right – Alpha and Beta Quadrant ships, but not built by the powers." She froze, antennae writhing.

Antonine stood up, looking squarely at her alternate's face. "I'm sorry – I think where you came from, there's a race that no longer exists that exists here, and they've been the cause of a lot of pain for billions of people. Wasn't their fault," she said gently.

Then whirled, and pointed to a corner at random, "But I think I know how you got there, don't I Q?"

True enough, a flash of light and pop of air came from a corner _behind_ her. "Took you long enough," Q said equably. "I don't know why we keep bothering with your little Federation."

* * *

Revka had clambered off the table and stood half-crouched. Antonine couldn't blame her. Q – self-appointed 'mentor' to the 'lesser races' of this part of the galaxy, was never a welcome guest.

"My, two of my favorite people," Q said brightly. Q currently was in his favored guise of an extremely high-ranking Starfleet officer, as a vaguely middle-aged human. Since he was being pleasant and hadn't transformed anything yet, this was apparently the 'son' of the Q who had brought the Federation to the Borg's attention, and Antonine's occasional problem.

"Or I guess one of my favorite people," Q continued, then looked over at Antonine's friends. "And her clique." He waved a hand dismissively. "Shoo, muscle," he said. Then he stopped at Revka. "Ah, glad to see you people are expanding beyond your measly three dimensions to work on bilocation." He flashed, suddenly having four of him in place before condensing back down.

Antonine folded her arms, "Q, I can't believe the Continuum would accept whatever paradox you've cooked up here," she said, in a warning tone.

He looked at her, and said, very seriously, "Oh, no, you all are living the paradox. The Iconians aren't good at time travel, but oh, what a knot they managed to weave." He stopped, held up a finger, correcting. "Well, almost all of you. Or you lived the paradox. Past the paradox. The timeline straightened. Celebrate!"

Antonine already had a hand reaching up as a festively colored conical paper hat flashed into being on the heads of all the beings in the room, to tear it off. Q blew into some sort of noisemaker that had materialized in his hand, and Antonine could feel the weight of another hat replacing the one she'd removed.

"He does this often?" Lieutenant Revka asked.

"Often enough," Antonine said, eying the super-being struggling with some sort of fingertrap briefly, before it flashed into a miniature dragon biting one of his fingers and vanishing. "Q's… had us intervene in some situations. I think he thinks I'm funny."

"Oh, you _are_ , slipping around that track," Q said, then looked over at their quizzical expressions. "Ah, never mind that little pocket universe. Still, I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm here," he said.

Antonine pointed at the decorations. Irritably, Q made them vanish. Antonine said, "I'm trying to figure out how stranding a Starfleet officer on a planet with no desire for advancement makes a point."

"Ah, yes," Q said, almost looking guilty. "Yes, I do apologize to you, but you were in a spot of bother already, that wasn't me. Vulcans," he said with some disgust, "So efficient, they cycled out the old codes, outdated and no longer used so Klingons wouldn't lure white-knight Starfleet officers into isolated ambushes. Wasn't expecting a bunch of voyeurs to be so meticulous."

"Still," he continued brightly, "It helped you two meet! Once again, the Q Continuum is perfect."

"Q", Antonine said, dangerously, "If you ripped someone from a timeline and her life just to make some bizarre point, well, I'm sure you can find a new flunky. But I will dedicate my life to the pursuit of research to banish your meddling forever."

"My, dramatic," Q intoned, dramatically.

"I beat the Borg. I've used the Guardian," Antonine said, stepping forward.

Q didn't give ground, "Yes, I don't understand why you didn't give yourself a field promotion at the time. You were _literally_ the highest-ranked Starfleet officer in existence." he said, with a flash covering her in gold braid, which she irritably swiped at. "Should have at least gone to Chief of Operations, if not Overlord of Starfleet."

Antonine refused to let herself be distracted, "I've led my crew against insane, broken demigods in pursuit of the protection of the Federation. I'm happy to _chalk another one_ on my service record," she said, still stepping forward. Q stepped back a half-step. Revka gave a low-whistle.

"She's not been torn!" Q said frantically – with a flash the party decorations and gold braid disappeared. "I admit, it is interesting – look at her, unbowed by the weight of flag command. A Starfleet not facing a long war, having ravaged the upper ranks and promoting those before their time. A long, successful career ahead of her. You've been fast-tracked, you know. You show successful leadership qualities and organizational skills." Revka looked pleased at that, then shook herself.

"She _was_ ," Antonine said, taking another step forward. " _Put her back,_ Q, you've had your fun marooning a version of me."

"Oh, six months is nothing, compared to even your short lifetimes, which is what it would have cost her," Q said, and straightened. "Maybe I'm not explaining right for your limited perceptions." With a flash, both Antonines and Q vanished from the _Trafalgar_.

Takerra groaned. It was one of **those** days. "Captain Takerra to bridge – Q was here," she said into her communicator. Instantly, the lights flashed over to yellow alert.

* * *

The trio flashed into a silent scene Antonine recognized, her office. Things were paused, with Lieutenant Isay half-rose after their meeting earlier. "You were that flash earlier?" she said. "Q, if this is supposed to _appease_ me somehow."

"No, just a pause – it seemed a convenient point to reflect on roads not taken and a Starfleet at peace," Q said. "But actually, a coincidence, we need to go back farther to see what was happening."

"He's always like this?" Revka whispered to her alternate.

"No, this is a good mood," Antonine whispered back, "He's usually not so distractible."

"Right, moving on, ignoring the peanut gallery," Q declared, and flashed them back out of existence.

* * *

They flashed back into existence, surrounded by a frozen vision of hell. The final battle of the Iconian War – spiky ephemeral ships blazing out destruction, tightening the net around the remaining Alliance ships. Earth stood below, the Federation capital achingly vulnerable. The _Annorax_ was moving into position for the last desperate, mad, attempt to salvage something. Revka started cursing as she read the situation.

"You'll never make captain again with that mouth," Q chided. "Relax, it ends well."

"Discounting the _millions_ dead and displaced?" Antonine said angrily.

" _Billions_ didn't end up enslaved," Q said with a flash of rare anger. Antonine conceded the point.

"You didn't mention all this," Revka said with some shock.

"Yes, here we were, the focal point of millennia," Q said, sounding bored. "Plans of both sides clashing, the Iconian long-term tech advantage versus the dynamism of the great Alliance. Here, the mighty Iconians survived as even a tiny fragment of their civilization was heir to great power. Here, their plans sent powers across the galaxy colliding to prevent any one power from gaining sovereignty. Worlds will burn, civilizations will fall, etc. That's all secondary though."

He teleported them again, close to the _Annorax_. "Let's let this play forward a little," he said. "Though if you look to your left, that speck to your laughingly primitive 'naked eyes', Kurland's here. Oh, and there's Admiral Revka on the perimeter. Wave!" Antonine grimaced – that flash of light had been the _Vector_ blowing up then. Five hundred crew, and only forty made emergency beamout.

He threw up a screen, showing 'video feeds' from points as they hovered in nothingness. Time started to move – the _Annorax_ 's incredible power ripping a hole in the time stream.

"I don't recognize most of these ships," Revka muttered.

"It's been a very productive few years if you had a draftboard and some spare time," Q said cheerfully, watching the time portal as it opened. "An astonishing leap in ability, even if borrowed," he said. "And, here comes Alpha Flight." The Alliance's elite formation, including the flagships swooped in towards the portal, most of them being diverted by the Iconians as the _An'quat_ under Kagran's command slipped through, followed by the Iconians firing on the portal as their massive flagship approached. "Pause," he said, snapping his fingers. The action halted, wavering oddly outside the bubble.

"What?" Antonine asked, "Sela and Admiral seh'Virinat get through before the dreadnaught cuts Alpha Flight from the portal." And that looked like it, at the time. Jupiter Station had been cut off, there was no lines of retreat. This was where they died as well as they could, Klingon or not, until suddenly the three ships returned with the World Heart, and the Iconians stopped.

"Ah, but that's the history that resulted, after the travelled back," Q lectured. He made a face. "You really need to work on tenses for this sort of thing if your species are going to keep time travelling. Your little time-ripper does help stabilize things a bit, so it didn't all completely collapse, but you only have Kagran back in time."

"Kagran was in favor of assisting on Iconia," Antonine said, "I can see why history continued along to complete the paradox." Revka looked lost.

"Kagran was but one man on location – and despite his many talents," Q stopped, and said, "Well, _supposed_ talents. It's not like he won the war."

"I would like to see you do better," Antonine snapped, and instantly regretted it, when Q flashed into an Academy uniform, but with infinity symbols for the year tabs.

"Do you think I could it?" he said excitedly, "I've always wanted to attend the Academy! I do hear having an Admiral's recommendation can really improve your prospects."

"Would you two focus?" Revka said. Of course, she wasn't seeing the death of Starfleet, not how Antonine was.

"Ah, yes," Q said. "Anyway, despite Kagran's many talents, he can't bilocate either. You can't save the Iconian database to portable media and guard the Iconian database at the same time, after all. So, being a Klingon, it ended up blowing it up to stop it from falling into worse hands. The, er, debate that followed took long enough the Iconians were unable to evacuate."

"I think this is where I come in," Revka said quietly.

"Yes," Q said bluntly, "Or a possibility – as I said, the time portal helped your timeline limp along, more or less. You are a good Starfleet officer without too much contact with omnipotent superbeings, Lieutenant. Admiral Revka's history is pretty close to her current timeline, but she doesn't match. The disparity, ah, helped anchor."

"Why?" Antonine said, "Thousands are dying here – _billions_ died from Hobus, millions from the Gorn and Klingon and Vaadwaur wars." She waved angrily, taking it all in. "This timeline's based on an impossibility! Why help preserve all the death? Who are you to play God?"

"Well, I was appointed," Q said grandly, "By the Continuum to do a good turn. You all are fascinating though, that helps, struggling along as you are – exposed to so many bizarre challenges pushing you to your limits."

Revka said, "Starfleet faced the unknown every day where I'm from – if I _am_ her, and did all these, why not let us face the challenges?"

"Ah, let's change the scenery," Q directed, flashing them to some point in a space, a vast red emission nebula in the distance, still with the vague waviness. Antonine didn't recognize anything off hand.

"So, imagine a Starfleet, without Undine infiltration, the Klingons lacking their _casus belli_ to satisfy their militant faction," Q lectured. Somewhere he'd gotten the chair he occasionally used, a relic of bad old days in Earth's past. "A Starfleet poking around slowly at their own local borders. Content at a slow speed of exploration, without a view and eye towards events in the rest of the galaxy. Perfectly reasonable spaceborne behavior. Perhaps even more _likely_ than your life's insanity."

"Without the Undine poking quantum singularities all over, the Borg aren't lured into making another tedious go at the Alpha Quadrant. Instead, they focus their assimilation attacks on fluidic space from their home in the Delta Quadrant. Without the Federation's _remarkable_ success against the Borg," Q stopped speaking and sighed. "My, Dad was always good with a taunt."

Antonine finished his thought, "The Borg were able to get data on how to beat the Undine immune system with their nanoprobes without Task Force Omega there."

"Oh, that's not even the worst of it," Q said. "After all, they weren't losing Queens and Hives to Omega. No Vaadwaur to blow through the cubes in dramatic fashion either. Without the Iconians, they were another band of angry pirates in a Quadrant already far too full of them. Just not enough variety there. You all are more interesting, but the Borg were willing to be patient, even if having to grab Undine on their own turf was much harder."

Revka said, "Starfleet is well aware of the Borg threat – I've participated in all sorts of drills. There's plenty of new technology online to stop them!"

"Yes, but you weren't going to _stop_ the problem, were you? Live and let live is fine when the neighbors aren't Borg. The Hierarchy certainly thought so," Q said, "The Borg managed to grab all their little databases, with the Queen focused at home. Made it a lot easier to go back in the water when you have billions more drones."

Antonine tried to sit, instead sort of going limp in space. "I think I see where this is going," she said weakly. Revka nodded.

"Yes," Q said, "Let's skip ahead a little." He snapped his fingers, the stars shifted position slightly – but the nebula was green, and Antonine could see the skeletal system of some Borg megastructure.

"Not far in the future, really," Q said judiciously. "A few centuries, but you can see how it simply _ruins_ the view. I had to do something." He flashed them back to the battle. "Really, it may have been a little bother to pull someone from the quantum froth to make sure a lie kept _lurching_ , but there's some planets that I managed to preserve some _spectacular_ sunsets." They flashed back to the battle – Q snapped his fingers again, and time moved forward, the waver clearing as more ships entered the portal.

Revka asked weakly, "So what happens to me?"

"You, oh the boundless possibilities of any lifeform, given your crude matter construction," Q said reassuringly. "At least it's a universe where you've been rocketed up to Admiral once already, so there's excellent promotion opportunities."

Revka looked at Antonine, "Mom and Dad the same?" she asked.

Antonine nodded, "They complain I don't visit a lot, but just because I captain a starship doesn't mean I can swing it by whenever I want."

"Actually," Q said, "I think by definition of captaining, you can point it –"

"Shut up," Antonine interrupted. "You've made your point, but thank you – at least for the sunsets."

"You sure? Wasn't too subtle to grasp the possibilities of possibility?" Q said mockingly, "I could put 'The Adventure Continues' in mile-high flaming letters over Starfleet Command."

Revka suddenly looked very relaxed. Antonine had wondered what she looked like when she solved a problem, so that was something else for today. "You know Admiral," Revka said, "There's been a couple captains who tried phasers when a Q appeared – there were some studies in my Starfleet; there's a few frequency bands left to try."

"All right, all right," Q said, snapping his fingers as the medbay appeared right around them, though it was lit at yellow alert. "Spoilsports, both of you."

"Bridge," Takerra said wearily, "The Admiral's back." She looked them over. "Q seems smug – mission accomplished?"

Antonine glanced at herself, and said, "I think that's _exactly_ the wrong attitude from his perspective, but yes."

Q preened, "Well, I think you've taken enough of my time for now," he said. "I'll be back to check in later, I'm sure – there's always something you mortals are in danger of screwing up." He gave a jaunty wave and vanished.

The room was briefly silent. Then the party hats popped back onto everyone's head with a final flash of light.

"And to think, he's the _least_ annoying Q," Takerra said darkly. Both Antonines laughed.

* * *

But despite Q's best efforts, life and missions continued. Antonine walked herself down to the transporter pad. Revka still had to gracefully bow out of society for pickup, and she was once again dressed to match the locals. They'd only had a few hours to try and catch each other up.

"There's actually form for incidents with reality-manipulating beings," Antonine said with a sigh, "I'll forward it to you to sign once your final pickup is arranged."

"I suspect I'll have time to write up my Starfleet while I get certified," Revka said. "Even the Romulans have been doing tech-transfers? And a _second_ Dyson Sphere?" She shook her head.

"The Romulans didn't have a good time of it here," Antonine said quietly, "But the survivors seem to feel they're better for it. I guess that's a lesson we both need to keep in mind." They walked silently for a bit. Antonine forced herself to brighten. "Still," she said, "You're probably a better engineer than me, so that's working for you. I do my best to tinker and keep up, but captaincy means it's just a hobby."

"Captain already. I still can't believe it," Revka said, "Six months among people debating whether a composite drain flange will destroy their society, and I come back and even the _Odysseys_ are old hat."

"A lot of that's just better manufacturing thanks to what we've learned from the Solanae Sphere already – it gave a real leg up for getting prototypes to mass production. Warp drive's still warp drive," Antonine assured her. "And of course more tech trading. Federation warp coils, Romulan sensors, Klingons for warheads…" Revka laughed at that. "And _Enterprise_ is still around as an _Odyssey_. Did Shon get it there?"

"Oh yes," Revka said, "Helped rally everyone when one fine ordinary day a Dominion fleet popped in. They had to be contained until we released the Founder. What happened here? He save the President from a Klingon demon?"

"Actually, pretty much what happened to Shon in your history," Antonine said. "I'll have to tell him next time the _Enterprise_ is out this way. I think he'd like that. But if you're interested in the tech differences, I'm sure I could get me transferred to the Solanae research teams." They'd been hovering outside the transporter room, hovering. "Well, Lieutenant, I'm sorry to send you back down there, but you've got your transmitter now. And I've attached a commendation," and a tremendous asterisk, "to your files. Good work at modulating the power grid to get your signal out."

Revka threw a pitch-perfect salute. Antonine naturally mirrored it. "Thank you Admiral. I appreciate the recognition, but maybe on one of the defense ships? My tactical scores seem low by recent standards. I'd still like to try for command. Something tells me I have a knack for it."

"Such arrogance to expect the center chair," Antonine chided herself. "But then, the fleet is still rebuilding mightily. I'm sure they can suffer an ops chief in center chair somewhere." They both laughed, and Antonine reached a hand out to her counterpart, who clasped it. "Don't worry, I'll break the news to the family. They'll be ready for you by the time you're off-surface."

"Thank you," Revka said, relieved. "I bet they never suspected _gaining_ an extra daughter out of Starfleet."

Antonine stepped forward, opening the door. "Sorry, we're running out of local night and you're going to be on stimulants as it is," she apologized, as Revka nodded and took to the pad. "At least, they're only going to be _half_ as justified in wanting one of us to visit," she said.

Revka was still laughing as she dematerialized, quietly. Antonine looked over at the transporter operator. "What do you think, Specialist? Think she may have my job some day?"

The transporter technician was still laughing as Antonine's departure closed the room back off. She looked up and down the corridor, and shrugging, picked one at random to head towards a turbolift. War-battered she may be, but at least one of her was still an Admiral, and duty called.

* * *

Author's Note: This one got sprung out surprisingly fully formed. Antonine's an old character. A lot of the missions she's done aren't around anymore, and that's formed part of her character. I suppose another possibility would have been the extended novel timeline (Destiny, etc.) for Revka, but a Borg threat 'out of sight, out of mind' seemed the sort of complacency Q loves to puncture.


End file.
